An Invitation You Can't Decline
by DinoDina
Summary: 10th Doctor/Male Reader slash, frolicking in the TARDIS cheese room. Kissing and fluff. Oneshot.


**Words: 1054**

**This is a response to a prompt: "10th Doctor/male reader, in the TARDIS cheese room". It's my first time writing a character with a non-canon character, so I didn't really know what I was doing, but it was pretty fun to write. Warning for kissing.**

You run into the TARDIS laughing, the Doctor only a few feet behind you, trying to catch you but always falling about a centimeter short. He cries something wild at you, and you reply with something equally cheerful and carefree. You giggle and turn to start running deeper into the ship, to intensify the chase, but the Doctor catches your wrist at the last second, knocking both of you off-balance and into each other.

"I hope you don't plan to run from me," he scolds lightly and jokingly in what you call his Teacher Voice.

"Not today," you confirm, then, with a small smirk, ask, "But you might have to work a bit harder to keep things interesting around here."

"How's this for interesting?" he offers, letting go of you and reaching into both coat pockets.

"Your 'I'm the Doctor, capital 'D', by the way' pose?" you ask with furrowed eyebrows and a confused but amused grin.

"Oi, I'll have you know this pose brings the most feared rulers of the universe to their knees," he defends a bit indignantly, and takes his glasses out from one of the pockets before procuring something else from the other one, "This."

You stare in confusion at what seems to be a regular block of cheese, and label it a such, then, to the Doctor's rolled eyes, add, "What is it, then?"

"Cheese," he announces proudly, as you look on in slight annoyance, showing it off.

"Did you pay for it?" you inquire with a raised eyebrow, because the Doctor, for all his miraculous brains, spends most of his time acting like a mix between an overexcited puppy and a squirrel on crack. "Because we were running from angry Sontarans whose prisoners we released, not the cops for stealing a piece of alien cheese."

"Of course not!" he acts offended as his free hand wraps around your waist. "It was a gift."

"Uh-huh," you nod and make your disbelief clear as you let him pull you a bit closer, and you thank the Universe for making you the same height. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Eat it," he answers thoughtfully. "Feed it to you. Put it in the cheese room."

"What's the cheese room?" you ask slightly incredulously.

"Exactly what it sounds like!" and you're out of his arms and being quickly pulled by your hand down a corridor. "A room of cheese."

You're excited, you must admit it. Then again,_ everything_ with the Doctor is exciting, has been even before you've started sneaking into his room so often you've practically moved in. Add to that the fact that you love cheese, and you're sold. It's just another adventure (into the world of cheese)!

The door the Doctor stops at is just like any other, bland, just like the ones around it. He grins wildly, one of his hands holding one of yours, the other clutching the cheese.

"You can open it," he offers and you turn the less than impressive doorknob.

The room has an impossibly high ceiling. That's the first thing you notice. The second thinf is that it's stacked to the brim with all sorts of cheeses, like a version of Aladdin's Cave of Wonders, or Harry Potter's vault at Gringotts.

"Is your mouth watering?" the Doctor wonders, a teasing note in his voice, and you notice that he has deposited the cheese on a shelf.

"A bit," you agree, nodding, conscious of the half-hug he's giving you from behind.

"You should try it," he inclines his head towards the purple cheese you have been eying unconsciously. "It's good. Speaking of. . . I have some spectacular Gouda here. Or the forty cheese blend, a delicacy on Jupiter's Io."

"There's cheese on Io?" you say, conceding braking off a bit from the purple one.

"Yes," he nods, stating, what is, to him, the obvious.

"Forgive me for not guessing," you mutter under your breath, no malice in the words that would have been harsh.

"I might be convinced into it," he agrees, laying his chin on your shoulder.

"Really?" you face him, gently knocking his head off its perch, but letting him snake his arms around you, just as he had before he'd taken you to this room. "And how would that be?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, and looks at you with large brown eyes filled with suggestion, thinly masked by innocence.

"How about a picnic?" you offer, putting your own arms around him. "Us. . . some remote, maybe exotic, location. . . the moon, the stars, the sun, if you want it. . . a blanket, a basket, food?"

"I'd like that," the Doctor agrees with a gentle smile and a barely perceptible smile.

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips. It's light, like a feather that lands on your lips after it's thrown there by the warm wind, and you can't get it off because you've just licked them. You smile into it, and he takes the invitation, gently sliding his tongue in, playing with yours. You respond, and his hands move up your back and into your hair.

"I love your hair," he says against your mouth, his warm breath mingling with yours.

"I know you do," you respond, and you would have smirked if the Doctor hadn't resumed his kissing of your lips and running his fingers through your hair.

Of course you know he loves your hair. The thick, shoulder-length locks are one of the reasons you were taken on as a Companion. As the Doctor had put it, "If I'm rude and not ginger. . . I need someone who isn't. . . who is."

You could have stayed there forever. But as much as you love cheese, that love is only for it as a food, so you have no reason to stay in the room, where, frankly, the smell is staring to get to you.

"You mentioned a picnic?" he asks, thinking along the same lines as you, and you nod.

"Just say when," you reply, and insane sharply in surprise as you're pulled out of the room.

"When," he says cheekily as the door shuts automatically behind you, and you're running down the corridors after hi,, trying not to trip over his coat and your own clumsy two feet.


End file.
